A Cry in the Park

by BobsBurgersStories

An encounter with Logan leaves Louise trapped in a well. The town joins together to save her, but rescue isn't as easy as they think.

15. Chapter 15

Hi, all, I'm finally back.

This is it; the penultimate chapter. I can't believe it.

There are a few instances of very very mild language in this chapter. I don't imagine anyone would get upset by it, but I just thought I'd give you a little heads up, just in case.

A Cry in the Park

Chapter 15

Louise, now 10, sat silently on the living-room sofa, waiting for the camera man to finish setting up. Her parents were sat either side of her, and her siblings were at either end of the sofa.

While the lighting was being adjusted, Louise looked down at her feet, clad in black Mary Janes. For the first time in almost a year, she was sockless. Her new prosthetics were great; she loved them. Although, she hadn't yet got up the courage to walk around barefoot, but maybe she would in time.

"We'll be ready in about five minutes," said Olsen Benner, who was sat off to the side, facing the camera.

"Okay," replied Louise, not really caring. For the first time in a long time, she felt okay. Not happy, not sad, just okay, which was different. (Bob and Linda still hid her medication in her food, but she wasn't to know that.) But, it was helping her. Helping her enough to make her agree to Olsen Benner's request to a television interview to mark the one-year anniversary of her rescue. She'd also spoken to the Bay Gazette, but that was it. She didn't want a big fuss made.

"Alright, here we go," Olsen's voice brought her back to reality. She focused on the reporter as she began to speak into the camera, before turning to Louise.

---

It was a bizarre week for the little girl, who found herself rather deep in thought. That particular week of February, she kept thinking:"this time last year, everything was normal." It was very strange to think that almost an entire year had passed. It felt as though it had been only a few months.

The next week, on Friday, the 21st of February, she was sat on the sofa with the rest of her family, waiting for her interview to be aired. It was to be a interview/long recap, and for some reason, her mother was insisting on taping it. Just like she insisted on keeping three fat scrapbooks full of all the news clippings she could find. Louise didn't see the point.

'This is it,' she thought. 'This is the last time I can say 'well, at least this time last year, everything was normal'.'' It was the moment her entire life changed.

"It was a cool, clear, February evening," began Olsen's narration, over a sweeping shot of Seymour's Bay. "A day like any other. A nine-year-old girl named Louise Belcher, was walking through Wharf Park, on an errand for her father. But Louise was not a normal girl. She was being bullied, and her bully was a 15-year-old boy named Logan Bush."

The Belcher family watched silently as the programme continued. Louise wasn't really interested in watching it, and she wasn't sure why the rest of them wanted to. They'd all had front seat tickets, and she was the star, and they weren't going to learn anything new from this.

She was soon eating her words when the CCTV footage was played; she'd never seen that before. She knew that it had been played in court, but she had been too bored to pay attention to anything except the verdict.

It marked the first time any of the Belchers' had seen any kind of footage of the ordeal, not counting the news reports the day Louise was rescued, or the CCTV footage. It was just as new to them as it was to her.

The screen then turned black, and the audio from the 911 call Shannon had made, one of the girls who discovered Louise, began to play.

"911, what's your emergency?"

"Hi. Um, I need, like, the fire department, or a rescue team or something..?" Shannon trailed off, a picture of her appearing on one side of the screen.

"What seems to be the problem?"

"Yeah, I'm Wharf Park, and there's a little girl trapped in a hole. I – I think it might be a well, actually."

"There's a little girl trapped in a well?"

"Yes."

"Do you know if she's alright?"

"I don't know; I can't see her."

"Okay. Do you know how old she is?"

"Um, let me check... She says she's nine."

"Okay, nine. Do you know how long she's been down there?"

"No, we didn't ask her."

"Did -"

"She told us where her dad is, and my friend went to get him."

"Okay, we're sending someone out; the fire department will be there soon."

"Okay, thanks."

"Could you -" but the flustered teen had hung up.

Louise remembered that quite vividly; the two girls calling down to her, and telling her help was coming. She remembered thinking that she'd just wanted her dad, wanted him to get her out.

"I wish we could find those girls, and thank them," said Linda thoughtfully.

"What for?" asked Louise.

"Well, they were a big help, weren't they? They found you, and told us, and called the firemen." Louise didn't answer, and so Linda dropped it.

"I didn't know Pocket sized Rudy did that," Louise said, not taking her gaze from the screen, where shaky phone footage of the boy being lowered into the well was currently playing.

"Yeah, it was such a shame he couldn't do it," said Linda, but Louise did not answer her, and continued to watch.

The sight of the drilling rig, and the park full of policemen and firemen, fascinated her. The machine was so big, and there were tonnes of men supervising it, all of them looking worried, but determined.

Then the scene shifted to a shot of the worried crowd standing anxiously behind the barriers, and she wasn't too sure if she liked that, especially as many kids from school were there, too.

"We'd been called in to supervise," said Tim Butler, having been interviewed from the police station, with Charlie next to him. "And our chief said to just stay near the well and talk to her. And I thought; well, alright, if it'll keep her calm, but she'll be out in just a few hours."

"So we did, we did talk to her. She was angry," Charlie chuckled. "She'd been in there for about five hours, and she was annoyed because it was taking so long."

"So, you two stayed there the entire time?" came Olsen's voice from off-camera.

"Pretty much. I went home on Sunday, and came back Monday morning, and Tim went home on Sunday morning for a few hours. I don't know," Charlie shrugged, "I felt terrible about leaving her. We'd be hearing her cry, and shout, and scream, and I just felt so bad for her. I felt like the only thing I could do was just stay there and try to comfort her."

"In a way, we were lucky," said Tim. "As she was nine, she was able to talk to us, and we could explain things to her." He paused slightly. "I think the worst thing was whenever she fell asleep; there was no way to check on her," was all he said, preferring not to go into detail. "After a while, we got to know her moods, and know when she was tired." He looked at Charlie, who nodded. "When she got tired, she'd be kinda huffy with us, you know? A bit grumpy. And when she was angry -"

"I think everyone knew when she was angry," Charlie grinned, and both men chuckled.

Louise continued to watch, more interested than she let on. She acted like her father climbing in to the drilling rig was amusing, but the look of desperation on his face made her laughter die in her throat. She watched as her parents gave a statement to the press onscreen, suddenly noticing how worn out they looked. She wasn't sure how to feel about that. She did enjoy seeing all these strangers concerned about her, but seeing her family like that.. it made her stomach feel funny, and not in a good way.

"You could've showered," she said, trying to break the silence. "You look homeless."

"We did," Linda agreed, "oh, look at the bags under my eyes." She didn't attempt to explain that they had all been too concerned over Louise, because she knew her daughter had heard it all before, and so they continued to watch silently, with the occasional muttered comment from Louise.

However, when the footage of her being brought up was played, everyone was quiet, even Louise. She stared in fascination, watching her on-screen self be surrounded by cheering people. She frowned slightly as she saw her bruised face, her blackened limbs, the exhausted, confused expression on her face. She looked so weak and pathetic; that wasn't her, that wasn't who she was. Louise set her jaw as she heard sniffles coming from her parents, resolutely keeping her eyes on the television.

Although, she had to admit, it did make her feel good to see everyone cheering and clapping for her. Their joy was practically radiating through the screen. Why this didn't happen every single time she walked into a room was beyond her.

"Louise was free, but her ordeal was far from over," narrated Olsen, as the scene cut to Dr. Cabell.

"There was a moment, in the operating room, when we thought we were going to lose her," said Cabell, and Bob straightened up, as did Linda. "Because we arrived so quickly, the trauma team hadn't finished prepping, and some stuff wasn't ready. There was a slight delay in getting the re-hydrating IV started – and that was one of the most important things – and I told someone to get some water. She didn't seem to realise it was there." Cabell paused, remembering the sight of the motionless girl on the table; eyes half closed and barely focused, mouth slightly open. "So, while we were waiting for the IV, we had to dab her mouth with a damp cloth because she needed the fluids. Add to that her weak pulse.. I don't think we relaxed until she was in her room."

"Why did he say that?" asked Louise. She looked up at her parents, who looked shocked and close to tears; they didn't know about that. "Why?"

"Well," Bob began, "the truth is..." he didn't really want to say, or even think of it. "You did almost die." His breath caught in his throat, and Louise's jaw dropped a bit.

"You're lying," she said quietly.

"We're not," he told her. "You came very close to dying," he wiped away a tear.

Deep down, Louise knew she could have died; she just never imagined that it was that close, that it could have been that quick. She got up and left the room, retreating to her bedroom.

Slamming the door, she threw herself onto her bed, gripping Kuchi Kopi tightly. She growled frustratedly when there came a knock on the door.

"Go away!" she snapped, her hands clenching into fists when she heard her door open.

"Louise, sweetie -" Linda began, but was interrupted by her daughter throwing her pillow across the room, followed by her lamp, which did not travel far due to it still being connected to the wall. "Louise -"

"Why didn't you tell me?!" she raged, rising from her bed, and pacing the little room. "How could you not tell me something like that?! Don't you think I deserve to know?!"

"We didn't know how to tell you," said Bob.

"What the hell does that mean? How hard is it to say, 'Louise, you almost died'? There you go, that was easy!"

"We didn't know about that part in the emergency room," said Linda, sitting on the bed. "The doctor never told us that; I guess he didn't wanna worry us." Now that she thought about it, she did have a lot of unread emails, and a missed call that she hadn't gotten round to calling back. She wondered if it had been Cabell letting her know what he was going to say.

"They told us you wouldn't have survived another day," said Bob quietly. "It wasn't what we wanted to hear, and so we just didn't think about it. I think we were a little bit in denial."

"But why didn't you tell me?"

"I'm not sure," said Bob honestly. "Maybe because we didn't think you needed to hear that kind of stuff. I mean, you know you could have died, we know you could have died; we didn't see the point in bringing it up again."

"It's not a nice thing to tell someone," Linda sniffled. "And you're my baby; we knew there was a chance you could have died, and we didn't wanna think about it at all."

"Alright, I get it. I suppose you have a very minute point."

"There's my baby," Linda smiled at her. "Wanna come and watch the rest of it?"

"Fine, whatever."

Back in the living room, Louise carefully situated herself back on the sofa. She no longer needed her seat ring, but she couldn't sit on the floor now. Not without extreme pain in her lower back whenever she stood. Or that one time, a few weeks ago, the pain had been so bad, it had actually brought tears to her eyes. She scowled at the memory of herself lying in bed while Linda sprayed Deep Heat on her back.

Pushing this unwanted memory aside, Louise looked at the television, but did not pay attention to the rest of the show. Now, a new memory was coming to her.

Suddenly, there was a bright light, and Louise was surrounded by people. She felt herself being carefully rolled onto her side as the spinal board was removed, with several pairs of hands steadying her. When she was on her back again, someone was holding her head, keeping it in place.

"Louise, can you tell me how old you are?" came a voice from somewhere above her. Not having a clue where she was, not even knowing her name in that moment, it was all she could do to blink.

"Where's that IV?" someone else yelled.

"It's almost ready!" came another voice, and someone opened Louise's eye, shining a light into it.

"Pupils are mildly dilated; possibly a result of being underground." The hand left her eye, only to lift her chin, one hand removing the oxygen mask, and placing a finger under her nose. "Breathing is laboured." The hands carefully opened her mouth. "Airway is unobstructed."A hand grabbed her wrist. "Pulse is rapid and weak. Blood pressure needs to be checked ASAP," called the voice, and the person resumed holding her head.

"What is the delay with that IV?!" barked a male voice. "She needs fluids!"

The beeping from all the machines seemed very loud, almost overwhelming the multitude of voices; not that she would have understood them anyway.

"Louise, can you talk to me?" someone leaned over her, the exhausted girl not seeing them. "Are you in any pain? Does it hurt anywhere?" Louise's forehead and chin were then strapped to the table. "Patient is conscious, but unresponsive."

More talking, more things she couldn't understand, then, "here, give her this."

"Louise?" came another voice after a moment. "Louise, we've got water here for you."

"Alright, we don't have time for that," came Cabell's urgent voice, and then a wet cloth was applied over her mouth.

"Moderate to severe dehydration; we'll need CT scans of the kidneys."

" - hypothermia; some warm intravenous solution -"

" - X-rays are already scheduled, sir -"

" - We need to stabilise her first."

" - Get that re-hydrating IV inserted!"

"The most important thing is fluids. We can get the X-ray machine brought here."

" - Splint the left foot -"

" - Once we have the X-rays, we'll go from there; she'll still need the MRI and CT scans -"

" - Make sure she -"

"Louise," someone leaned over her. "I know you're tired, but we need you to stay awake for as long as you can, okay? It would really help us out." Nothing seemed to be making sense to her; it was like there was a delay between her ears and her brain.

Louise could feel her left wrist being lifted again, but she was powerless to do anything.

"Louise? Louise?" her mother's nasally voice brought her back to reality.

"What?"

"Is everything all right? You seemed kinda out of it there."

"Yeah; just bored out of my mind watching this," she gestured to the television.

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, we can watch something else," Bob suggested.

"I really don't care."

"So how often do you all talk about it?" came Olsen's voice, directed at Bob and Linda, who were sat together on their sofa.

"We don't talk about it unless Louise brings it up," on-screen Bob said. "We're not going to pressure her."

"But she has the option," Linda added. "She knows that we're there for her." Louise huffed and crossed her arms as a clip of herself appeared on the television, for her segment, which had been filmed later in the day.

"I don't talk about it at all," she heard herself say. "I don't need to."

"You don't need to?"

"No. I've got it under control," was all she'd said.

---

The Bay Gazette

February 22nd, 2020

One year after her dramatic rescue from a water well, and Louise Belcher is content to let the anniversary pass quietly, granting only one interview.

The rest of Seymour's Bay don't want a big fuss, either.

"Although, it was an event with a happy ending, we don't want to make a big deal out of it," said Mayor Thomas Sanders, who presented the rescuers with the Community Spirit Award last September.

A year ago, Louise Belcher was an ordinary nine-year-old girl, when she became the subject of an intense rescue operation that captured the attention of the town.

On the evening of February 22nd, 2019, Louise was walking through Wharf Park, running an errand for her father, when she was approached by her bully. Logan Bush, then fifteen, was already in therapy for anger problems, and had been harrassing Louise for more than a year. Logan, who wanted to perform a wrestling move on her, shoved her, causing Louise to stumble back, and she fell 80 feet to the bottom of an uncovered, abandoned well, only 14 inches in diameter. She remained trapped for five days before being rescued, as firemen, diggers, volunteers, and more worked around the clock to free her.

The mammoth effort to save her was unprecedented. Officials believed it would only take a few hours, but solid rock, basalt, slowed them down. Louise was also buried in rubble up to her chest, leaving her arms trapped, and the small size of the well meant that no one could squeeze down to reach her.

Louise spent two months recovering from various injuries in hospital, and the boy who pushed her was charged with assault and battery, and was sentenced to five years in jail.

Now 10, Louise spoke briefly to us about her life since that moment.

"It doesn't feel like a year ago," she admitted. "It's gone so quickly."

Today, Louise seems remarkably unaffected by the ordeal. The fall caused her to break her ankle and tailbone; when she was rescued, she was severely dehydrated; she was suffering from hypothermia, septicaemia, kidney failure, reduced blood flow to her limbs, gangrene, and permanent partial hearing loss caused by the drills.

She prefers to live her life quietly, turning down offers for public appearances. She's become a local celebrity, but avoids the spotlight. This interview will mark her third time speaking to the media. "I'm glad to be out," Louise says, when asked why she agreed to do the interview, "and it's a way to really make it seem real."

Her parents, Bob and Linda, owners and operators of the "Bob's Burgers" restaurant on Ocean Ave., have said that the two men who freed their daughter, Patrick Baker, and Simon Landon, have already stopped by to visit and catch up.

"We invited them over," revealed Linda, "so we could thank them again; we'll never not be grateful to them, and to everyone."

Linda cut the clipping from the newspaper, and pasted it into her scrapbook. She was on her third one now. It had almost become an obsession; every single news article or snippet she could find was cut out and glued into the books, all in chronological order, oldest to newest. She had even gone online, and printed out articles from other newspapers.

Linda couldn't explain why she did it; what happened to her daughter was something she would never, ever forget. The only explanation she could think of was that it was nice to look back and see how all these strangers dropped everything to help save her baby.

"Wow; I can't believe you've almost filled three books," Bob observed, as he entered the bedroom to find her gluing away.

"I know; I didn't realise there was so much."

"Do you think you're done now?"

"Probably. I don't think Louise is going to speak about it any more, so I don't think there'll be any more articles."

"Why do you keep all of them?"

"This one's good!" she brandished the scissors to the latest cutting. "How often are we mentioned in the same article as the mayor?"

"Fair enough," he shrugged. "Does Louise know about this?"

"Yeah; she seems okay with it." Linda placed the book in a box with the others, and put it under the bed. She also had another box filled with all the cards and letters that people had sent them.

---

Making sure no one was about, Louise crept into her parents' room, shutting the door behind her. She crawled under the bed, and began rifling through the boxes, and pretty soon found what she was looking for.

Clutching the items close to her chest, Louise quickly and quietly left the room, being sure everything looked the same as it always did. Not that she cared, she just didn't want anyone to see what she'd been looking at.

Locking herself safely in her room, Louise sat cross-legged on her bed, and picked up the first scrapbook. Linda, always one to show off her creative skills, had embroidered Louise's name on the front, along with little firemen hats, stars, and hearts. She slowly turned the pages, reading through every article, looking at every photo.

"Girl trapped in well was pushed," was the story she was currently reading.

A young girl who has been trapped in an abandoned water well for more than 24 hours was pushed in, sources reveal.

Nine-year-old Louise Belcher was running an errand for her father Bob, a restauranter, when she was approached by a 15-year-old boy.

Logan Bush, who had been bullying her, pushed Louise, causing her to fall into the uncovered well, located in Wharf Park.

Since then, dozens of volunteers have been working to free her.

Louise is 80 feet below ground, and buried up to her chest in rubble. Rescuers are currently digging a parallel shaft 85 feet down and five feet away to reach her.

The little girl could potentially have broken bones and a back injury, said local doctor, Steven Cabell, as well as possible organ damage. Although a camera has been lowered down the well, it is unknown how hurt Louise is. She told the first responders that she landed on her foot, and that her foot and back were hurting, but any other potential injuries are unknown.

Despite this, the child seemed to be in good spirits, but "cranky and grumpy," and has been ordering rescue workers around.

"She's been telling us to hurry up and get her out," said police officer Charlie Wilkins, who has spent the past 20 hours lying by the well, talking to her.

Louise's family – her father, mother, Linda; and two unnamed older siblings – remained in Wharf Park, near the well, talking to their daughter and sister.

Like Louise, the Belchers' are frustrated at the slow process.

"They can't understand what's taking so long," said police spokesman Carol Parker.

Rescuers are struggling to drill through solid rock known as basalt, which is strong enough to break diamond tipped drills. They are only able to dig an inch per hour.

Louise only nodded as she turned the page. She couldn't understand why she had the sudden urge to read these, but she hoped that once she got it out of the way, then it would be over and done with. The more she read, the less real it seemed. It didn't really happen, did it? It couldn't have; it wasn't possible.

But, as she turned the pages, looking at photos of her distraught family, it dawned on her. It really did happen. The shock hit her in the face like a freight train. She couldn't believe it.

She really did spend five days – not just five days, 114 hours – trapped in a well. She had been trapped 80 feet below ground, and her injuries had been severe enough for her to have amputations.

She knew what had happened; of course she did, she wasn't stupid, but now it was like she was learning about it for the first time.

Louise was reeling, blood pounding in her ears, feeling her heartbeat in her eyes, her brain, and her breath caught in her throat.

Why had this happened? She gripped the book. Why did it have to happen to her? A wave of anger swept over her; she'd never allowed herself to think about it before. Why couldn't they have gone faster? Why couldn't they have found someone skinny to lower down to her? Why didn't they have the sense to get the better drills right away? She knew by now that the digging of the rescue tunnel began four hours after she fell in. (That was another thing that angered her; she didn't fall, she was pushed.) Why did they wait for four hours?

The logical part of her mind knew that she hadn't been discovered for a while, and that they tried other things, but damn it, she had a right to be angry.

She also hated the fact that she had to be rescued, like she was some stupid, helpless princess in a tower who didn't even have the resourcefulness to make a ladder out of the bed sheets. Louise didn't need someone to rescue her; she could have gotten out of there herself, if they hadn't taken so long.

She wondered what would have happened if they'd gotten her out a day sooner. Would she still have needed the amputations? Maybe just a few of her toes?

Double checking that the door was locked, she settled back down onto her bed, and removed her shoes. Even now, she still couldn't bear to look at her stumps for too long.

She was extremely grateful for her prosthetics; they looked so real. You could barely tell where her foot ended, and the prosthesis began. Still, she didn't walk around barefoot, no matter how hot it got; she just couldn't take the risk.

Slowly, Louise pulled her prosthetics off, and forced herself to look at her feet. They looked pretty muh normal, except the ends were smooth and rounded. She still occasionally knocked or bumped them, but they were less prone to bruising. The phantom pain was becoming less and less common, though when it did occur, she was unprepared for it.

She scowled. This was the proof that it really happened. She remembered what her mother had said; Louise still didn't think she could ever be proud of them. They were a constant reminder of how she was a little coward, afraid of a teenage boy. They were a symbol of her stupidity; if she'd had the sense to raise just one arm, she could have gotten out immediately. Why didn't she try harder? Louise was sure she could have wriggled an arm free if she'd persevered.

Blinking back angry tears, she hurled the scrapbook across the room.

---

"There's my little babies!" Linda cooed, as her children entered the restaurant before they headed off to school. "Looking forward to another day at school?"

"No one in history will ever be excited for school, and they never will be," said Louise. "One day, lightning will strike it, and we'll never have to go again."

"I'm sure it will, if you think positive," said Linda, to keep the peace. "Alright, bye babies, have fun!" she called as they left.

"Damn; that door is still squeaking," Bob muttered, heading over to try and fix it. "Lin, come and look at this," she saw Bob was looking out the open door, and she went over to him. Poking her head around the door, she looked down the street, seeing her children walk to school. "Look at her walking," Bob brought a hand up to his face, welling up. Linda looked; there was Louise, in between her siblings, matching pace with them, walking perfectly normally. She still had a hint of a limp, but it wasn't noticeable unless you really looked.

"Wow." It had been gradual; they hadn't noticed Louise's walking improving, but now they could see just how far she'd come. Physically, at least.

Mentally, she still wasn't herself. Sure, the medication was helping, but Louise wasn't who she used to be. She still had nightmares; they weren't as frequent as they had been, but they hadn't completely gone away.

According to her therapist, Louise had opened up a little bit, once or twice, but they hadn't yet made the big breakthrough, and she still hadn't regained her special bond with her father. Bob was grateful that the Japan trip had repaired their relationship a bit, but she still wasn't as close to him as she used to be. Bob wasn't sure if she still blamed him or not, but they were slowly, but surely, getting back to where they were.

On the plus side, her mood swings were becoming less frequent, she didn't appear to be as angry as she had been, and her grades had improved.

Bob and Linda were just grateful that she was still with them, and she was getting better. Little things like that made them both emotional now, because they knew it could have all been so different. So, yes, they had cried during the first school play Louise had been in since her return to school, they did shed tears during her tenth birthday. Bob had sobbed at Thanksgiving; they'd allowed the kids to stay out later during Halloween, and they'd both cried like babies during the Wagstaff School Christmas Concert. They'd left the room on Christmas morning to cry in each others' arms, because they were so happy.

Even when Louise was at her lowest, even when she was in her foulest mood, they couldn't be mad at her, they just couldn't.

---

"Hey, guys," said Regular sized Rudy, as they walked through the corridors. "Are you excited for the field trip next week?"

"I'm excited for anything that gets me out of this hell hole," said Louise, stopping off at her locker.

"Heyy, Rudy!" came a high-pitched whine, and Louise groaned. If she could just push Chloe Barbash off a cliff, then she could die happy.

"Oh, hey, Chloe."

"Now, Rudy, I want you to be careful on that trampoline, okay? We need you at school," she laughed, an annoying, tinkly laugh that made Louise want to punch her in the face.

"Rudy's not made of glass, Chloe. He can handle a trampoline." Actually, he probably couldn't, but Chloe didn't need to know that.

"Oh, Louise, I didn't see you there," Chloe said, in her sickly sweet 'look-at-me-I'm-super-nice' voice. "Well, well, it's great to see you walking so well."

"Why wouldn't I be?" Louise bared her teeth in what she hoped was a smile.

"Didn't you have amputations, or was that just a crazy rumour?" Louise laughed, surprised at herself at how bitter it sounded.

"Do I look like I've had amputations? Do you see any fake legs?"

"Oh, gosh, Louise, I'm just trying to make conversation. Don't be so grumpy. Maybe you just misheard." Chloe flounced off down the hallway, leaving Louise seething. By now, it was well known that she was partially deaf. While being moved to the front of the classes helped, being spoken to like she was stupid brought her anger to the surface. Just like in "SpongeBob" when everyone thought Sandy was dumb, and Patrick talked excruciatingly slowly to her. If one more person SPOKE – LIKE – THIS while talking to her, well, she couldn't be held responsible for her actions.

"I don't know what's gotten into her lately," Rudy apologised. "She's been quite -"

"Mean?" finished Tina.

"A huge bitch?" Gene supplied.

"If you wanna call it that," shrugged Rudy.

"I would," muttered Louise.

Chloe had been unusually antagonistic towards Louise lately; Louise wasn't sure why, but she didn't appreciate it. Whether Chloe was jealous of the attention Louise had received, or maybe she was finally showing her true colours, Louise didn't like it. Perhaps a bucket of fish guts down the Barbash family chimney would be the ticket?

For some reason, Miss LaBonz appeared to be in a foul mood, in no mood to teach, and so she had stuck on a DVD for their English class. Not that Louise was complaining; TV was TV, and this meant no work. The film was some generic CGI kids movie, probably too young for them, but again, she wasn't about to complain.

She shifted in her chair as LaBonz put the DVD in. Even though it had been massively beneficial to her, she was none too pleased about being at the front of every class. She'd opted for the seat on the far left, so her good ear was facing the room. But it meant that couldn't plan anything; she was right in the line of fire. No passing notes, no pretending to do work; her teachers could see everything. Louise pursed her lips and gripped her pen; why couldn't she have some kind of earpiece, connected to the teachers? That way, she could remain at the back. She still wouldn't listen, but it was the principal.

"Oh, Miss LaBonz?" Chloe thrust her hand in the air, causing both Louise and LaBonz to groan. "Aren't you going to put the subtitles on?"

"Why would I do that?" the teacher grumbled.

"Why, for Louise." Digging her nails into her desk, Louise turned around to face Chloe.

"There's nothing wrong with my eyes," she said, mimicking Chloe's syrupy sweet tone.

"Oh, I know that," Chloe observed Louise, her eyes glimmering. "I wouldn't want you to miss out on any of the dialogue."

"How thoughtful of you."

"Well, I'm just trying to be inclusive."

"I think it'll be fine, Chloe," Regular Sized Rudy said quietly, and that made Louise even angrier. Turning back round, resumed gripping her pen, as LaBonz started the movie, with no subtitles. She was desperate to get out of there, but she knew if she asked to be excused, then people would think that she was embarrassed and upset. Which she wasn't.

Louise paid no attention to the film, instead stewing, and filling up her workbook with several drawing of the most unfortunate "accidents" occuring to Chloe. She was definitely going to get a bucket of fish guts.

When the bell rang for break time, Louise tore out the drawings and crumpled them up as the kids rushed out of the room. Nobody needed to see them. Except perhaps Chloe. In the hall, she caught size of Regular Sized Rudy, and her anger exacerbated.

"What is your problem?!" she snapped, shoving him on the shoulder.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't need you to fight my battles for me!" she seethed, pacing in front of the confused boy.

"What are you -"

"What, you think I can't defend myself against some prissy little diva?!"

"Louise -" but she would not listen.

"I don't need your help!" She jabbed her finger into his shoulder, before marching down the hall.

This time, however, Rudy followed her, and caught up with her in the playground.

"Louise, what's the problem?" He stood in front of her, forcing her to stop. "What did I do?"

"You need to stop treating me like a baby!" Her face was red.

"I haven't been treating you like a baby."

"Then what was that, in the classroom?"

"What?"

"Telling Chloe to shut up! I had it under control, I'll have you know!" Rudy gave a little sigh.

"Louise," he said quietly, "I wasn't trying to annoy you; I'm sorry if you thought I was. I just wanted Chloe to stop talking, so we could watch the movie." Louise, still scowling, only stared at him. "She's been kinda getting on my nerves lately," he said honestly. He'd never admit it to Louise, but yesterday, he'd pulled Chloe aside, and asked her why she was being so mean. He guessed that this was her response.

"Join the club," was all Louise said.

"And why shouldn't I defend you, if I wanted to? Isn't that what friends do?" Louise groaned.

"Yeah, pathetic people who can't handle anything!"

"I know you can handle yourself, Louise, but like I said, I just wanted Chloe to stop talking."

"Then why didn't you tell her to stop talking?!"

"She wouldn't have listened. You know what she's like."

"Couldn't you have done something else without making me look like some pathetic little princess?"

"That wasn't my intention. Look, Louise.." he hesitated slightly. "You're the strongest person I know, and I know you don't need help from anyone. But I like helping my friends, or at least, trying to help them." She was still staring at him. "I know you don't like attention being drawn to.. certain things, and I was trying to get her to stop," he admitted. Louise remained silent. After a moment, her scowl lifted slightly.

"Alright, fine; we're in agreement that Chloe Barbash is a poisonous little viper, and needs to be stopped." She paused. "And, for what it's worth, I guess I see your point." Rudy smiled at her, and her mouth twitched in response. "Now, come on; let's not waste our break by sitting around and talking!"

They walked through the playground, Louise's mood slowly dissipating. Until Chloe ran up to them.

"Rudy! There you are!" she simpered, taking his arm. Louise wanted to punch her for reasons she couldn't explain. "We missed you."

"Oh, okay. Break just started," he pointed out, still completely oblivious to her attempts at charming him.

"Sit next to me in history, will you?" she batted her eyelashes at him.

"Oh, um, I'm not sure if we can just switch seats," he said, looking slightly uncomfortable.

"Too bad, Chloe; I'll guess you'll have to sweet-talk the answers out of some other poor sap," Louise smirked.

"Louise, this is a private conversation; why don't you run along and play?" said Chloe condescendingly. "But don't run too fast. Wouldn't want you to trip and fall, now, would we?"

"Alright, what's your problem?!" Louise snapped, having had enough.

"Problem?" Chloe raised one eyebrow, tossing her long hair over her shoulder. "I don't have a problem." Her eyes were glinting. "What, you think I would tease you because you fell into an uncovered well, and spent the next five days crying for your – OOF!" Louise had gut punched her. Chloe dropped to her knees, clutching her stomach, her face red.

"Louise!" barked Miss LaBonz. "I saw that! You can go straight to the -"

"I'm going!" Louise screeched, stamping back inside.

Rudy was speechless, but he helped Chloe to her feet anyway, and he saw Gene and Tina approaching him out the corner of his eye.

"Can you believe her?!" Chloe gasped, still holding her stomach.

"That was not cool, Chloe," said Rudy quietly.

"Oh, come on! It was just a joke! I was only joking!"

"No. You went too far."

"What happened?" asked Tina.

"Chloe was making fun of Louise," Rudy explained.

"I was joking!" she repeated. "Can't Louise take a joke?"

"Yeah, she can," said Gene. "But there's a difference between joking and whatever it is you were doing, which I'm pretty sure wasn't joking. "

"Come on!" she actually stamped her foot.

Rudy only walked away with Gene and Tina, leaving Chloe alone.

---

Cynthia pulled up outside Bog Harbour State Penitentiary, where her son was incarcerated. She and Tom visited him once a month, which was the maximum allowance.

That day, Tom was unavailable as he had to work, so Cynthia made the 30 minute drive alone.

As per usual, she passed through the scanner, her bag was checked, and placed securely in a locker, and she was escorted to the visiting room.

Even though she had come there every month since August, she was still unhappy at the way her belongings were searched every time she entered the building, how she had to remove her pearls, and how her bag had to be left behind. She didn't trust those flimsy looking lockers.

"It's protocol, ma'am," a police officer had said to her when she had a made a 'minor' fuss about it. "We can't allow anyone to bring bags of any kind in; in case the prisoners are given contraband."

"You seriously think I'm going to give my son anything that will help him break out?!" she'd asked incredulously, which, along with the shouting and raging, had resulted in her being removed from the prison, and she was not allowed to see Logan that day.

To her credit, she'd learnt her lesson, and remained silent from the moment she arrived inside the building, until she was in the visiting room.

As she entered the large, grey room, filled with dozens of tables, most of them filled, she spotted Logan. He was sitting by himself on one of the back tables, and she approached him.

"Hi, sweetheart," she smiled, sitting down opposite him.

"Hi," Logan muttered, his chin in his hand. Cynthia took the moment of silence to study him; he'd lost more weight, and she still hadn't gotten used to his hair not being styled; it hung limply over his forehead.

"You're still a bit pale," she observed.

"Well, I can't exactly go outside and get a tan, can I?" he sneered, his fists clenching. Already, she could tell it was going to be a tense visit. Cynthia opened her mouth to retort, but she pulled a face.

"Have you been smoking?!" she hissed, wanting to cough at the telltale smell.

"So what if I have? There's not much to do around here!"

"I will not have you smoking! Where do you even get cigarettes?"

"I buy them with the money I earn!" Logan snapped. "I can't believe I have to do laundry and sew clothes; it's humiliating! So, I can spend my money on what I want!"

"Oh, it won't kill you to learn a trade. When you're released, you'll need to find a job."

"When I'm released, I'm gonna.. sue them for everything they've got," Logan hesitated slightly as he thought about what he really wanted to do as soon as he got out, which was to seek revenge on Louise.

"You're not living off me and your father; you'll get a job," Cynthia insisted. "And you are not going to smoke any more; I won't have it."

"You can't stop me, and you can't tell me what to spend my money on! I earned that; believe me!" It was true; she couldn't stop him, but that didn't make her any happier.

"Well, you mark my words, as soon as you are out of here, a cigarette will never pass your lips!"

"When I get out of here, I'll be a proper adult, and then I can do whatever the hell I want."

"That's true, but as long as you live under my roof, you'll live by my rules!"

"Well, maybe I'll get my own place, then," his eyes glinted. Cynthia raised an eyebrow.

"And how are you going to do that?"

"I told you; I'll sue. That judge and jury were corrupt! They only took Louise's side because she's a little kid! They just felt sorry for her. If it hadn't been all over the news, then I wouldn't be here!"

"You can do whatever you want when you get out," said Cynthia, privately wholeheartedly agreeing with him.

She had recently seen Linda and her children on the way to the grocery store (Cynthia would never step foot inside Crave N Save, or other such places), but she noted how normal the Belchers looked. Looking at Louise, you'd never have known what happened, and Cynthia truly felt that the girl should receive some sort of punishment for putting her son in jail. It took everything she had to not get out of the car and confront them.

The only reason she didn't was because, for some reason, people still spoke ill of her and her family. She'd regained a few friends, but most people appeared to be of the opinion that she thought her son an angel, who could do no wrong. It wasn't the case, of course; she'd had trouble with Logan in the past, but this was different. It was just a simple accident, and she couldn't understand why she was still being given a hard time over it.

---

"Stupid well," Louise muttered, lying on her bed, her dream notepad open in front of her. She wasn't having a good day; a particularly bad nightmare had woken her far too early, and it had been playing on her mind all day. So, now she was moody and grumpy. "What kind of idiot makes a well that small?" She'd never seen one like that before.

She angrily flipped through her dream notes, before deeming it a lost cause, and heading into the kitchen to get the laptop, snapping that no one disturb her. The rest of her family were in the living-room, unwinding after a long day at work and school.

Back in the sanctity of her room, Louise typed in 'Seymour's Bay history' into Google, and when she did not find what she was looking for, she typed in 'Wharf Park, Seymour's Bay history.' If she could find the person, the personification of stupidity, who had dug the well, then she could slap the idiocy out of him. Unusual for her, she read every single page on the history of her little town she could find; probably the name of the person who dug the well would be buried in the middle of a wall of text.

She learnt that her well – she as good as owned it – was almost 100 years old, and was similar to an artesian well, or a borewell.

It was originally dug to be 50 feet, but was extended using drills in the early 60's – with the brick lining being brought down further, as well – to preserve the freshness of the water. The well hadn't been used since 1979 ("A load of good extending it was!" huffed Louise), and the decision to drain it was made on February 8th, 2019, which was when the steel casing and the wellhead had been removed.

'The idea to make the well so small – innovative at the time – was a way of getting cleaner water. Mr. Fairfax, whose idea it was, believed the smaller and deeper the well, the fresher the water. He also did not want a large well being an eyesore in such a beautiful public park,' Louise read. 'Another reason Mr. Fairfax insisted the well be small, was because he was also worried about children and small animals falling in.' Louise barked a bitter laugh.

Now she didn't know who to blame. If the steel casing hadn't been removed, there wouldn't have been a cave-in. If the wellhead hadn't been removed, she wouldn't have even fallen in. Louise would have gladly taken whatever Logan had planned for her, rather than spend five days in hell. Suddenly, the Reverse Norwegian Stink hold didn't seem so bad.

That was all the information she could find out about the well, apart from that it had been filled in and covered, but she knew that anyway.

It wasn't fair; she folded her arms and frowned at the laptop. This Mr. Fairfax died decades ago; Logan was in jail, so who was she supposed to blame? She didn't know who exactly had delayed filling in the well, or who removed the wellhead, so what could she do? She'd already sent several angry emails to whoever she thought was responsible for it, but what could she do apart from that?

She shut the laptop, giving it a little kick, not enough to cause any damage, but enough to express her displeasure. Reaching under her pillow, Louise pulled out her other notebook, and began hurriedly writing.

"Louise?" her mother knocked on the door, and Louise quickly hid her notebook before Linda entered. "We're just about to watch a movie; wanna join us?"

"No," Louise didn't look at her mother.

"Everything okay?" Linda sat on the edge of the bed, and Louise dug her fingernails into her arm.

"Fine."

"Are you sure? You can always talk to me, or to your father."

"I said it's fine!" she snapped, just wanting to be alone.

"Okay, then, sweetie." Linda rose and made her way to the door. "If you change your mind – about anything – we're in the living room." Louise did not answer, and Linda returned to her family.

"She doesn't wanna join us?" Bob guessed as his wife sat down next to him.

"No," she sighed. "Something's bothering her; I think she had another bad dream last night. How was she at school today?" she directed this to Gene and Tina.

"Uuh, she was okay," said Tina slowly. "She didn't really talk much."

"Okay," Bob nodded. "Well, she's probably just having a bad day, so the best thing we can do is just let her deal with it in whatever way she does that."

Louise awoke later that night with a start. Panting slightly, she reached over to switched her lamp on, and felt under her pillow for her dream interpreting book and her notepad. Flipping to an empty page, she began writing.

'I dreamt I was in my room, probably at home, but it looked like a hospital room, and it's late at night and I can't sleep. There's a man in the corner watching me.' Louise checked the corners of her room, breathing a small sigh of relief when she saw nothing. 'He's wearing a long, black cloak with the hood up, and I can't see his face. But I know he's watching me. Just like the other dreams. This time, he came up to my bed, and leaned down watching me, before moving back. Then he disappears.' When she had finished, Louise opened her interpretation book. She'd learnt quickly to write down everything she could remember as soon as she awoke, and then to try and find the meaning.

"Hooded figure, hooded figure," she muttered, turning the pages, trying to shake the feeling of deja vu. She'd had that nightmare before, but it wasn't like an ordinary nightmare. It was more along the lines of her bad dreams of being in the well, and emergency room, in that they were frighteningly realistic, and they actually happened. That was what unnerved her. If those two happened, who's to say that this dream wasn't real, as well? Why would someone in a long, black cloak be in her room, watching her? It didn't make sense.

She tapped her pen against the page marked 'Figures and entities', and began reading. 'Dreaming of a hooded figure can actually mean that you are buying yourself more time to complete a project or endeavour in your waking life. Perhaps you are hiding away or delaying doing something because you feel it needs more time invested in it. It's possible you don't think you have the space in your life to complete it to the best of your ability or indeed at all. It might be wise to ask for help or adjust your plan so it's more manageable.

You may feel threatened by the hooded figure in your dream- just as you may feel threatened by an aspect of your personality that you keep withdrawn and it's beginning to create a problem for you. Perhaps it's time to look at this part of yourself more closely rather than ignoring or suppressing it. Can you talk to someone? A friend, partner or family member or even a professional?'

That second part made her stop. 'An aspect of your personality that you keep withdrawn.' So, apparently the only solution was to talk about it? That was great, just great. Louise studied the page, frowning. How was she supposed to talk when nobody could possibly understand? Louise herself barely understood what was happening inside her mind, so how could she talk about it?

Besides, even if she wanted to, the mental walls she had built up around herself wouldn't allow her to. They just wouldn't.

In the dim light, Louise could see the scars on the back of her hand, and her inner arm, and she frowned again. Applying the makeup every single day was getting tiresome, but she just couldn't bring herself to go out without it. Everyone would stare, and not in a good way. She was Louise Belcher, future ruler of the world; she deserved all the attention, she just didn't want people staring at her scars. Why should she have to put up with that? She shouldn't, so she wasn't going to give anyone the opportunity.

Shrugging, Louise placed the books back under her pillow, and switched her lamp back off.

"Rise and shiiine, swee-" Linda's too cheerful morning singing was abruptly cut off by her moody youngest.

"Alright, I get it; I'm up," she snapped, throwing her blanket back. Linda made to leave, before she noticed something.

"Louise, remember to take your prosthetics off before you go to bed; you heard what the doctor said."

"My body, my rules," Louise muttered, sticking her feet back under the covers.

"You need to let your feet breathe, otherwise you'll get another infection."

"So? I'll get one if I want one." Linda gave a small sigh.

"I don't think you'll like that, sweetie. Remember what happened the last time? All that pain you were in?"

"No, I don't remember," Louise deliberately looked her mother in the eye as she lied.

"Louise, you need to take your prosthetics off when you go to sleep, okay? This is non-negotiable. Now, come on; you don't wanna be late."

"Ugh, it's just a dumb museum," she groaned. It wasn't even a good museum; it was the same old boring Museum of Natural History, where they always went. Knowing her luck, the Amazon exhibit would be closed (again), and even if it were miraculously open, she couldn't do any of the fun stuff; she couldn't climb ladders, and she still sometimes struggled with stairs.

Outside the school, Louise did not even attempt to listen as Mr. Frond went over the ground rules, before placing the Buddy Board on the side of the bus. Louise stepped forward, running her finger down the list as she searched for her name.

"Regular Sized Rudy. Again." She supposed it wasn't too bad; she could be stuck paired together with Millie, or Harley. Or even the karate-obsessed Arnold, or Abby. Or Chloe. She would rather be stuck with the asthmatic boy who was practically allergic to life.

"Hey, Louise, looks like we're buddies again," came Rudy's voice to her right, and he stood next to her.

"Yeah," she replied, biting back the urge to add, 'I can read, you know.'

"I can't believe we're going back to the same museum. Why can't we go somewhere fun, like NASA, or a candy factory?"

"Or the Funplex, or Funtime Junction," said Louise, suddenly wistful. She hadn't been to a place like that for ages. Family Funtime was alright, but she liked the squashy indoor play areas, with the slides, and ball pits, and the like. She suddenly had the urge to go to one, but the urge died as quickly as it came; her climbing skills were now on par with a three year old.

Louise dawdled as the kids climbed onto the buses, still deep in thought. What if going to Funplex regularly would be good for her? It could help with her climbing, and then everyday tasks would get easier. If she put it that way, her parents might be more willing to take her there every so often. Maybe, seeing as she was a VIP, she could get the owners to close the venue down for her? Then she wouldn't have to be embarrassed about falling.

Louise made sure she was the very last on the bus, so she could take her time climbing the stairs. She'd gotten quicker, but going last meant that people couldn't see her struggling. Placing one hand on the railing, she took a breath, and swung her foot up onto the step. She didn't understand why it was still so hard for her.

"Well, hopefully the Amazon room will be open this time," Rudy was saying as she sat down next to him.

"Mm," she grunted, making a mental note to get the window seat on the way back. Louise listened to Rudy chatter happily, giving a non-committal noise every now and then, before quickly tilting her head to the side, a slightly frustrated expression crossing her face.

"Are you okay?" Rudy looked concerned.

"Just wish we were going anywhere but the museum," said Louise, ignoring the high-pitched ringing shooting through her left ear. That had been happening for the better part of a year, but she still hadn't gotten used to it, mainly due to how random it was. Sometimes, it was her left ear, sometimes it was her right, and sometimes it was both. Usually, it would be the high-pitched noise, which sounded like a flat-line, but higher, and other times, it would be beeping. It sounded to Louise like Morse Code. Honestly, she preferred the flat-line noise, because, though annoying, it was consistent, and didn't distract her like the beeping did.

Luckily, by the time they arrived at the museum, the ringing had stopped. Again, she waited until the bus had cleared before she got off.

"You coming, Louise?" Rudy turned to find Louise rummaging through her backpack.

"You go on ahead." When Rudy had left, Louise stood, swinging her bag over her shoulder, making her way to the front of the bus.

Louise waited until all the students were distracted, before she grasped the rail, and stepped off the bus. She stepped a little too far forward on the bottom step, and grabbed the railing, but it was no good. She braced herself for the fall. Fortunately, Frond was nearby, and caught her arm, steadying her.

"Are you okay?" he asked quietly. Louise did not answer, and yanked her arm out of his grip.

Just as she predicted, the museum was just okay. The Amazon room was closed off, due to repairs, but she didn't feel like sneaking in. Instead, she walked around sullenly with Regular Sized Rudy, not even interested in the sand exhibition.

"Maybe next year, we'll get to go somewhere better," said Rudy, as they stood in front of a prehistoric display.

"There's nothing good in this crappy town; we'll have to go far away," Louise said, looking up at the mannequin with indifference.

"We could go to Six Flags." Louise hummed in response, not wanting to admit she had never been there.

"Anything but a museum."

"They are really boring," Rudy agreed. "Even the Amazon room is closed again. We're just not meant to see it," he grinned at her, waiting for her to suggest sneaking in.

"We've seen it once; we don't really need to see it again."

"I liked it in there."

"Well, if you wanna sneak in there and almost die again, be my guest," she said, still not looking at him.

"I think I'll be fine, as I'll have my inhaler with me this time," he joked, but Louise did not look amused.

"If you wanna go in there, then go in; I'm not gonna stop you."

"Don't you wanna come?"

"I told you, I've seen it before."

"Fair enough. It can't really compare to the first time."

When the Belcher kids had arrived home, Louise slipped into the kitchen, while Gene and Tina sat down in a booth.

"Mm, I never get tired of "Sands from Exotic Lands!" said Gene, reaching into his pocket, and dumping sand all over the table.

"I liked the big painting of horses. And the butts of Lewis and Clark." She traced her finger through the sand as Louise rejoined them.

"I liked the part where we all left," said Louise, ignoring the sand.

"It's not that bad," Gene mused, sifting the sand through his fingers.

"Louise, why did you – Gene, where did you get that?" Bob sighed as he looked through the hatch.

"It's from the museum. This sand has come all the way from Africa!" Gene gasped.

"Why did you bring it here?"

"It wanted to travel! It was bored being stuck in that museum; it wanted to see the world!"

"Okay. Anyway, Louise, why did you change the schedule? We're not closing early on Wednesday."

"Yes, we are."

"Whatever gave you that idea?"

"Well, don't you want to go to Funplex?" Upon hearing that, Gene and Tina perked up. They did want to go to Funplex.

"Funplex? What's brought this on?"

"It's not like we need to stay open; they're not exactly lining up to get in here. Staying open with no customers just wastes money."

"Okay, but what's all this about Funplex?"

"I think we all need to get out of this hellhole; we all deserve a little break." Bob knew exactly what she meant, which was, 'I want to go to Funplex.'

"You know, it's not a bad idea, Bobby," said Linda. "It might be good to take the evening off and have some fun."

"What? We have fun; it's fun here. Right?" he directed this last piece to Gene and Tina.

"Uh, yeah, sure," they both said slowly, and Bob sighed again.

"Alright, fine; we'll close early on Wednesday, and go somewhere fun." He had to smile as his family cheered.

---

A few mornings later, Louise awoke and dressed. Before she made her way into the kitchen, she quickly wrote down the night's dream in her notepad.

'Last night I dreamt that I was back in the emergency room. It was almost the same as the others, except it seemed really short. All the doctors were sticking needles in me, and taking lots of blood, and they cut my legs off. They didn't give me any fake ones. They didn't have faces, just hundreds of hands. I think I had other dreams, but I don't remember them.' Making a little note to look into it more later on, she hid the book under her pillow, and went into the kitchen.

Gene and Tina were already at the table, pancakes piled on their plates, Tina with her water, and Gene with his milk. Linda was busy with the chopping board, doing who-knows-what, and Bob was placing the milk back in the fridge before taking his seat.

In the doorway, she paused, glancing at the little television, before deciding that the news was too boring for her to waste her precious time on. She went to sit down when she saw Linda pick up what she had just been crushing, and sprinkle it into Louise's glass of milk. Louise knew it was her milk, because everyone else had their drinks.

"What was that?!" she demanded, crossing over to her mother in two strides.

"Louise!" Linda gasped and accidentally knocked the drink over. "I didn't see you there!"

"What did you put in my drink?!" Bob groaned quietly, wanting to hide in his newspaper. He didn't have the energy for this, especially at this time in the morning.

"I – I.." Linda wasn't sure what to say.

"Why have you been drugging me?!"

"Louise, we haven't been drugging you," Bob assured her, as Linda mopped up the spill. It was a very broad definition, and he didn't think what they were doing counted.

"Don't you lie to me!" Louise turned to her father, the fury radiating out of her in waves. "Stop lying, and tell me what the hell is going on!"

"Alright. Alright," Linda took a deep breath. "Sit down, sweetie."

"Why? Are you gonna tie me to chair and force pills down my throat?!" Louise snarled. She made to leave, but Bob stopped her.

"Louise, please, just give us a chance to explain," he said, bending down to her level.

"Why should I?!"

"Just – please, let us explain," he implored.

"Fine," she huffed. "What were you hiding in my drinks?"

"Sit down," Linda repeated, and this time Louise complied. "Louise," Linda didn't know how to say it, so she decided to be blunt. "Sweetie, you have depression and anxiety."

Whatever Louise was expecting, it certainly wasn't that, and she stared at her mother.

"What?"

"It's true," said Linda. "Remember last year; all those times we went to the doctors'?" Louise nodded. Much as she hated to admit it, she hadn't been in a good state of mind back then, and so had not paid attention to what the doctor or her mother had said. "He did some tests, and diagnosed you. He said the best option was medication, but we didn't want to. We tried therapy at first, but it didn't seem to be helping, so we -"

"So you hid pills in my food," Louise finished for her, looking disgusted. "Which is the most stupidest idea ever! I don't need medicine!"

"Louise," began Bob quietly, "do you remember how you felt last year?"

"I don't feel things."

"You felt.. different, right?" he said, and Louise hesitated. It was true; she hadn't felt like herself for a long time. She could remember when she started to get a bit of herself back. "You've been feeling better for a couple of months, haven't you?" She still didn't answer.

"... How can I have depression and anxiety?" she eventually asked. "That doesn't make sense. I wasn't feeling sad; I don't feel sad. And I wasn't anxious about anything!"

"Well, depression isn't always about feeling sad," Bob didn't know too much about it, but he'd done some research. "Sometimes it means you don't really feel anything. Do you remember a few years ago, when we watched 'Inside Out'?" Louise nodded slowly. "Remember how Sadness and Joy left and all the kid could feel was fear, and anger, and disgust?" Louise nodded again, realisation dawning upon her. So much stuff made sense now. "But depresssed people can feel happy and sad, too; it's complicated."

"What about this anxiety rubbish?"

"All those headaches and tummy aches were signs of it," Bob told her, wanting to cry. "The not sleeping, the bad dreams; those are all signs, too."

"That sounds made up," she hoped she sounded as sure as she felt. Except she wasn't so sure.

"Louise, honey, I'm not going to apologise for giving you medication, because it's helped you so much, even if you can't see it. But I will apologise for not telling you, and hiding it from you. I'm sorry," said Linda sincerely.

"Why did you lie to me? Why did you hide the pills?"

"It was stupid," Bob admitted. "At the time, we thought it was the best thing; I know you don't like taking medicine." He remembered the many, many, many instances in which Louise had proven this to be true. "We wanted you to get better, and so we did what we had to do."

"You should have told me," Louise said sternly.

"You would have refused to take them," said Linda truthfully.

"You don't know that," although everyone in the room, Louise included, knew that the "Full Family Hold Down" would become a daily event, multiple times a day.

"Louise, we'll never lie to you again, okay?" 'When it comes to stuff like this,' Bob added mentally, not yet prepared for the Santa Claus and Easter Bunny revelations.

"You'd better not, or else I might start hiding them in your food."

"Fair enough," Linda had to chuckle. "Louise, I'll make you a deal; we promise to not hide your medicine, if you promise to take it every day, okay?" Louise hesitated, looking at her mother's outstretched hand. She didn't really want to agree, but she just couldn't back away from any kind of challenge.

"You've already lied majorly to me twice this year; how can I tell you're not gonna do it again?"

"You know everything that we know now," Bob assured her. "We had good intentions, but we won't do it again." Nodding, Louise shook Linda's hand, before heading over to the kitchen counter. The pills were in two separate blister packs, one for her depression, the other for her anxiety. Bob followed her, as she slowly popped them out. She'd never been too good with swallowing tablets; she hated the feeling. Why couldn't it be a syrup instead? "If you want," said Bob, "we could carry on putting them in your drinks? You can't taste them; we won't hide it from you, and this way it'll be easier."

"Fine, whatever," was all Louise said, sitting back down at the table. Gene and Tina had finished their breakfast a while ago, and were waiting for her, so they could go to school. Bob was careful to let Louise see him crush up the little pills and mix the powder into her glass. 'Just like chocolate milk,' she told herself, as Bob placed it in front of her.

Louise screwed up her face as she lifted the glass, now convinced that she would be able to taste it, and she would spit it out everywhere, and she'd never be able to have any kind of medicine ever again. Taking a deep breath, she downed it as quickly as she could, and to her surprise, it tasted like ordinary milk. "So," she said, wiping her mouth. "Are we ditching today?" she directed this at her siblings, who looked slightly confused.

"You're going to school, Miss Missy," said Linda, putting a few pancakes on Louise's plate.

"Oh, come on!" she yelled, glad that the dynamic had returned to normal.

---

True to her word, Louise did take her pills everyday; she crushed them up herself. It just became one of those things she now had to do. It soon became routine for her; two pills in the morning, and two in the evening. Much as she didn't want to admit it, they were helping, she could tell. Although still moody, she wasn't as bad tempered as she had been.

Her mood was significantly improved the following Wednesday, when Bob and Linda pulled up outside school, ready to go.

"Yay, Funplex," cheered Tina in her usual monotone.

"Well, we're not going to Funplex; we're going somewhere similar," Bob explained, as he drove through the streets.

"Where?" asked Gene.

"It's an indoor play area called the "Mad House;" it's got lots of slides, and climbing stuff, and things," said Bob.

"Whatever keeps us out of work," came Louise's voice from the backseat.

Once inside the Mad House, Louise knew that she had made the right decision. Well, of course; she always did, but this was an extra good decision. It wasn't too busy, as it was the middle of the week, and she could see a big rainbow slide, tunnel slides, ball pits, pits filled with squashy foam blocks, soft obstacle courses, and even a little zip-lining area. Yep, she had definitely made a good decision.

Besides, it was for everyone's good; business had slowed down in the past few months, and Bob couldn't really afford to close every other Friday, as they used to. She was really doing this for the greater good. She was a hero.

Gene and Tina kicked off their shoes, as did Louise, and they entered the main play area. Louise looked down at her socked feet, suddenly regretting that she had picked a Wednesday; sure, there was less chance of someone spotting her falling, but if it was busier, then no one would notice her at all.

While Gene dove headfirst into the ball pit, and Tina struggled to climb up the rope ladder that would take her to the slide, Louise hesitated.

"Louise?" she heard her father's voice.

"Deciding what to do first," she said, not looking at him. "Should I do the best thing first, or save it 'til last; these are important decisions."

"Louise." She turned around, and he bent down to her level. "No one will notice," he said, and she raised her eyebrows casually. "In the nicest possible way, no one's going to be looking at you; they're all too busy having fun."

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"I'm just saying that people trip and fall in here all the time; no one's going to notice anything." He waited, but she said nothing, and so he continued. "Go on; go and have fun." Louise grinned before jogging after her siblings.

In the end, they all ended up having a pretty good time, even Louise. Bob and Linda had sat on the sidelines, watching with amusement. Linda had managed to sneak into the area and had gone down the tunnel slide, before she was instructed not to do that again by a member of staff.

Louise was very tired, more so than her brother and sister. She felt immensely proud of herself; she'd done everything, and only fell a couple of times, and that was due to the squashy floor (and running too fast, but that couldn't be helped). She'd even held her own on the trampoline.

"We need one of those foam pits at home," she said, referring to the deep hole filled with foam blocks, into which kids could jump from a trampoline. Louise had actually bounced straight into the centre of the pit. If she could do that every day, that would be great; it was such a struggle to get out, as she kept sinking further in, she would probably never have to work again. It wouldn't be her fault; she would simply be stuck in the foam, what could she do?

"And the zip-line; what a convenient way to get from bedroom to kitchen," said Gene, nodding happily.

"I think having a slide instead of stairs would be pretty cool," said Tina.

"How would we get back upstairs?" asked Bob, stumping her.

"Oh, uh, I didn't think about that," she admitted.

"I told you; a podium that rises up through the restaurant!" Louise insisted, concealing a yawn.

"Right, forgot about that," Bob chuckled.

When they arrived home, Linda immediately sent them to bed; they'd been at the Mad House for more than five hours, and the kids were tired.

Louise, in particular, slept well that night, and for the first time in almost a week, she did not have a nightmare.

"Lin, did we do the right thing?" asked Bob, as he climbed into bed.

"What do you mean?"

"Should we have taken Louise there tonight?" Now, she was looking at him.

"Of course we should have; did you see how happy she was? And we had fun; we all did."

"No, it's not that. It's just -" he sighed. "What if it was too much for her?"

"I'm sure she's not in any pain, and if she -"

"No, not that." He paused. "What – what about her heart?"

"What? Bobby, her heart's fine," she reached out and squeezed his hand. "She's never had a problem with that."

"But.. it was so weak. Do you remember, they wouldn't let us see her, in case.." he broke off, burying his head in his hands.

"Hey, come here," Linda cradled his head against her chest. "I remember that, but listen to me. Her heart is fine. The doctors would have told us if it wasn't. It was only that first night, and then she was fine."

"But what if all that running wasn't good for her? She hasn't done anything like this for more than a year."

"I understand you're worried, but she'll be fine. Maybe what we can do is ease her into this? It's good for her to move about, so if we do this again, we'll get her to take it slowly, okay?"

"Okay," Bob sniffled. "She's going to be okay?" he tried to sound sure, but it came out as a question.

"Of course she is." Linda kissed him, and then lay down, and Bob did the same.

However, a few hours later, he awoke and got out of bed. Making his way toward Louise's room, he quietly opened her door, and silently observed her. When he saw the rise and fall of her chest, then he relaxed, before heading back to bed.

---

Logan Barry Bush groaned and covered his eyes as he and his cellmate were awoken by the prison guard. Knowing that resisting would only result in punishment, he stretched and got out of bed. He checked his pockets; only 16 cents, not enough for a telephone call, and so he made his bed, and then entered the communal washroom with the other inmates.

As was routine, they headed to the commissary for breakfast; a minuscule bowl of oatmeal, a small portion of mixed fruit, and toast and margarine, with a cup of coffee. Logan wrinkles his nose at the sight. Despite already having been there for eight months, he still couldn't get used to the bland, terrible food, or the toddler-sized portions.

After breakfast, the inmates were herded off to the exercise yard, where very few of them exercised, due to the drizzle, and freezing weather.

Stuffing his hands inside his sleeves, Logan stood against the wall, observing. He'd learnt a lot by looking; he knew who to avoid, and when to step back. His cell mate, Mitch, wasn't too bad, despite his arrest for armed robbery.

"They could at least give us a football," came a voice to his left, and Logan saw Mitch standing next to him. Mitch was much taller than him, despite being only two years older, and his dark beard was growing out nicely from the stubble he usually kept it as.

"Yeah," he agreed. "They want us to keep busy, don't they? Well, why don't they give us stuff?"

"Because they're sadists; they love to watch us suffer," said Mitch, ad Logan nodded vigorously. Mitch reached into his pocket, and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, offering one to Logan, who accepted. They smoked companionably for a while, watching the other boys, some gathered in huddles, no doubt trading goods, others running laps in order to warm up.

It was Mitch who had introduced Logan to smoking; the blonde had been there barely a week when he finally gave in, and tried one. It was disgusting, but it was something to do. It made him feel less stressed, and so he continued.

Logan could not wait to get back inside, and for the few mandatory hours of schooling to be over, so that he could spend his free time doing something useful.

The only thing Logan hated more than prison school was prison work. Apart from doing ridiculous girlie jobs like sewing, and doing laundry, he was also required to do landscaping.

At that moment, he was pushing a wheelbarrow full of compost from one side of the yard to the other, and he paused to roll up his sleeves. When he'd deposited it, he went to the shed to grab one of the many huge bags of mulch to place around the flowerbeds. He scowled as he heaved the bag up in his arms, and made his way across the grounds. Why was he doing this? What good could planting flowers be for him? How would this help him?

Logan walked along the bank by the wall, resisting the urge to trample the pansies and peonies.

'I thought prison was supposed to teach life skills,' he thought. 'I'm not going to be a gardener!' If he had his way, he would be learning how to fix cars, or computers or something that would be useful to him when got out of this hellhole.

Due to the heavy bag, and the fact that he was not looking where he was going, he ended up tripping over a small pothole, and falling flat on his face.

His pride bruised, his face burning, Logan got to his feet, and resumed his duties as the inmates sniggered.

When leisure time eventually rolled around that afternoon, Logan quickly headed back to his cell. Making sure no one was around, he quickly emptied his hidey-holes. Cigarettes, postage stamps, ramen noodles, and chili powder were concealed in various places around his room. Hiding a few of each item on his person, Logan left his cell, and entered the common room, a large, cold-looking place. Guards were stationed here and there, sharp eyes watching, and the inmates were clustered about the room. Many of them were playing cards, playing for prepaid cards, and other such luxuries. Other prisoners were outside, and some were resting in their cells.

He waited for a while, before approaching a small group playing a card game.

"Good game?" he asked, trying not to falter under the hard stare of the 24-year-old seated directly in front of him. Connor was perhaps the most notorious inmate, due to his colourful past. Logan couldn't remember if it was his 11th or 12th time being incarcerated, but he knew that the young man had not been charged with simple, petty crimes.

"Whaddya got?"

"I got stuff," Logan shrugged casually, taking a seat. "What about you?" Connor raised an eyebrow.

"You're not in a position to bargain." Logan straightened up slightly. Another thing he'd learnt was to not be a pushover, but also to not act like he was important. There was a fine line to tread.

"I'm just trying to make a deal, that's all."

"I don't appreciate you butting in on our game, Bush."

"Hey, man, I'm just looking for some trade," Logan held up his hands casually.

"We don't want it," said another inmate, Chris, and Logan felt his temper rising, but he fought to keep it under control.

"I was talking to Connor," he said pointedly, but this made Chris even angrier.

"Hey, you wanna go?" he raised his voice slightly, as he stood. Now, everyone within earshot was watching.

"Oh, come on, he's not going to hurt you," one inmate sneered. "You're not a little girl!" Logan flushed as the occupants laughed, but he neither said nor did nothing. After the second time he'd been beaten up, he'd learnt to keep his mouth shut. Logan might not be Albert Einstein, but he knew the correlation between a bad attitude and getting jumped.

He focused on his contraband, quite possibly the only thing that could earn him some respect.

"I've got noodles, and stamps," he said calmly, patting his jogging bottoms.

"Man, you really gotta learn to keep your head down," said Mitch later that evening, when they were back in their cell.

"What? I made the trade, didn't I?"

"Yeah, but you almost got your ass beat. Again. I don't know how many times I have to tell you; they don't like people who hurt kids in here."

"I didn't hurt her! She only got hurt when she landed at the bottom!" He hesitated as Mitch stared at him, setting his jaw. "Anyway," he continued calmly, "if they don't like people who hurt kids, then why are you friends with me?"

"Because I think you got potential. But let me say this; pretty much everyone here has a sister. If that kid was my sister – you wouldn't have lasted your first hour here." The tone in his voice let Logan know that Mitch was absolutely serious. "Anyway, I need you to do something for me."

"What?"

"They're gonna start doing random drug tests this week, and I need you to pee in a jar for me."

"What?"

"If you do it, I'll tell some of the guys to ease up on you."

"Alright, fine." It was an easy decision, Logan thought, especially if it meant that his time there would be a little less stressful for him. "Drugs, though? Where did you even get them?"

"I got a guy," was all Mitch said. For a moment, they both sat there silently.

"How come they're starting these drug tests now?"

"I don't know; trying to catch us out, I guess."

"Just what I need; more accusations. As if my life isn't bad enough." Mitch leaned forward, and gave him a quick slap to the back of the head.

"I honestly don't know what goes through your head sometimes, man! Just accept the fact that you gotta pay for what you did."

"But it was just an accident!"

"That accident almost killed someone." Mitch might not have been a saint; but he had a four-year-old sister, and despite him hating his parents, he loved her fiercely. If anyone harmed one hair on her head, he didn't know what he would do. That was why he was trying to behave, notwithstanding the drugs, because he hoped to get released early, and then he could see her.

"Yeah, and she's free to live her life, while I get to suffer everyday in here for the next five years. Her suffering's over." Shaking his head, Mitch smacked Logan upside the head once again.

---

Louise awoke with a start, and sat up, panting slightly. Switching on her lamp, she grabbed Kuchi Kopi, and held him tightly. She reached under her pillow, pulling out her dream notepad, and quickly began writing.

The drilling had stopped, and Louise wondered if they had reached her.

"Louise!" someone called down to her; it was one of those two voices who had been constantly talking to her, and she looked up. "We've got bad news; the machine broke."

"What?!"

"The digging machine broke, and we can't get to you." Louise's heart was racing.

"Get another machine! Don't leave me in here!"

"Well, Louise, the problem is, that was the only machine in New Jersey. We could call for another one, but would take days to get here."

"Get it! Get it, you have to!"

"If we can get it, we will, but I can't guarantee anything."

"I'm stuck in a well; I have to get out!" She was beginning to panic now.

"I'm sorry, Louise. We tried to save you. We'll get you some food and drink."

"I don't want food and drink; I wanna get out! Please get me out!" She screamed, her heart almost bursting out of her chest.

"Louise, we did our best. We will call for the new machine, but it probably won't get here in time. All we can do for you now is make you comfortable." Louise's eyes widened as she realised the implications.

"You can't leave me to die in here!" she screeched. "You have to get me out!"

"We're not going to leave you," he told her. "We'll get you some food."

"No! No, no!" Louise's cries fell on deaf ears, as the man walked off, and she was left alone.

Shivering slightly, Louise stopped writing and grabbed her dream interpreting book, needing to focus on something. She couldn't seem to find anything relating to that particular dream; the closest thing was 'abandonment.' According to the book, she either needed to let go of something in her life, or she needed to "look right inside yourself," and to "stop for a moment and reevaluate your life based on the activities and events which surround you at the moment."

She rested her chin in her hands; this wasn't going to go away. It was going to keep building up, getting worse and worse, until... Well, she didn't know what would happen. She had to do something, but she didn't know what.

Louise lay back down, and cuddled Kuchi Kopi. The feel of the cool vinyl against her cheek soothed her. No one would ever know just how big a comfort he was to her during those long hours down in the well. He was the one she talked to the most; they had many long conversations without opening their mouths. It was just the way they communicated; they'd always done it. He even had the exact same personality as Melted Kuchi Kopi, which made things so much easier.

He would reassure her, and tell her she was going to be okay. He'd tell her to get some sleep, even when she didn't want to.

"But what if I die? I don't want to sleep," she'd confided, and Kuchi had promised to wake her up, and he did. He always kept his word; Louise respected that about him. That was what she'd dreamed about when she was trapped; being left to die. It had made it very difficult to sleep; if they'd thought she was dead, then they would just give up and leave her in there. It wasn't something she liked to think about.

Kuchi helped to keep her spirits up, and encouraged her to hang on. He kept her from getting too panicked (although it didn't always work, at least he tried.), and he distracted her, by talking to her, telling her stories about his world.

She would be forever grateful to her mother for putting him down there with her. (Not that she'd ever admit it.)

"What do I do, Kuchi?" she asked, using their special, secret way of communicating.

"There is only one thing you can do, Louise."

"What?"

"Talk about it."

"I can't. The words won't come out; it's like they're stuck inside my head."

"Do you think more writing about it would help?" Louise paused.

"Maybe. Writing my dreams doesn't help, though. It doesn't make them stop."

"What you need to do is to find another way of dealing with it. If you don't want to talk about it, and I think you should, then you need to come to terms with it."

"I have!"

"No, you haven't. Once you accept what happened, then you can start to move on. When you next have therapy, try to talk about it."

"All right; you win. I'll try something tomorrow. My therapist gave me an idea."

With that, Louise switched off her lamp, and closed her eyes.

---

The following evening, the family, bar Louise, were in the living room, getting ready to watch a movie.

"I'll see if Louise wants to join us this time," said Bob, as he stood, and walked down the hallway. He did get worried at her being by herself all the time, and he believed that if she was with her family, she might start feeling better.

As he approached her room, he noticed that the door was slightly ajar, and he heard her muttering. He paused, trying to listen.

"What do you want?" he heard her say quietly, and he prepared to apologise for eavesdropping.

But when he pushed the door open just a little bit, he found her sitting on the floor with her back to him, playing with her toys. She was holding Kuchi Kopi, making him stand on the bed, while her toy bear with the sharp, jagged teeth was in her other hand. "Get outta my way," she murmured, making Kuchi Kopi speak to the bear, which came closer. "I'll teach you not to mess with me," she lowered her voice, and made the bear slam into Kuchi, before deliberately dropping the night light onto the floor, and rolling it under the bed. The bear began to run away, but not before one of her other toys (a new one; Bob couldn't remember who'd given it to her) body slammed it.

Bob pressed a hand over his mouth as he realised what she was doing. After he'd composed himself, he knocked on her door, waiting.

"Louise?"

"What is it?" When he entered, she was sitting on her bed, reading a manga.

"We're just about to watch a movie; wanna join us?"

"I'm good," she returned her attention to her manga.

"Are you sure? It's a good one; "Terminator."

"I'm good," she repeated.

"Okay," Bob nodded. "Well, if you change your mind, you know where we are."

"Whatever."

---

Later on in the week, Louise was back in her therapist's office. She'd been thinking a lot about what Kuchi Kopi had said to her, about talking. She still wasn't too sure about it, but she kind of wanted to try. Then, when it didn't work (she knew it wouldn't), she could work on another way of making the bad dreams and thoughts go away.

At that moment, she was colouring, but she wasn't really focused on what she was doing.

"I don't get it!" she snapped suddenly, throwing her pen down.

"Don't get what?" asked Hannah, who shifted closely. Louise clenched her fists.

"Why everything is so..." she could only wave her arms in frustration.

"So difficult?" she finished, and Louise nodded. "I know you're still struggling, and that's okay. But I think the reason why everything is still affecting you is because you don't want to deal with it."

"I am dealing with it!" she exclaimed. "I'm dealing with it by writing! That should be enough! So, why haven't these stupid nightmares stopped?"

"Writing is a very useful tool," Hannah agreed, "but actually acknowledging out loud what happened is a great first step." Louise did not say anything, and so she continued. "You're always going to remember what happened to you, and it's a part of who you are now."

"I don't want that."

"You can't change the past," said Hannah gently, "but you can act on the future." Louise didn't know what to say to that; she picked up another pen, twiddling it between her fingers. She stared at the book, her mouth firmly set. "I know how hard it is to talk," Hannah said, angering Louise.

"What do you know? You don't know anything!"

"Talking about trauma can be hard to do."

"There's no point because no one can ever understand!" Louise fumed.

"Why do you think that is?"

"Because this hasn't happened to anyone else! It's not like there's a book on how to deal with it!"

"You are dealing with it quite well," said Hannah truthfully, "you just need to take a little time to really come to terms with it. Unfortunately, that means talking about it."

"I don't want to."

"I know you don't, and I won't force you, but things will get better once you do. That first step can be very hard, but you've got to push yourself. Once you get over that first hurdle, the rest will be easier." Louise mulled it over.

"What if I never want to talk about it?"

"I couldn't say, but I can definitely see that you've improved whenever you've told me what's bothering you. Will you try?" Again, Louise thought about it, weighing up her choices.

"Maybe."

---

Back at Bog Harbour State Penitentiary, the inmates, Logan among them, made their way to the visitors' area. Logan didn't know why he had to be there; Cynthia had called him the previous evening, saying that neither she nor Tom would be able to visit him. He never found out the reason, as he'd angrily hung up on her.

"Right, Bush, you actually have a visitor," the guard pointed to the table on the far right. Logan did a double take when he saw none other than Bob Belcher sitting there, watching him. He wondered if the guards would get to him in time if Bob decided to attack. The teen made to turn around, but was stopped by the guard. "Go on," he nudged him toward the table.

Logan slowly made his way over to the restaurateur, wishing he were anywhere else. He sat down at the table, surveying the man in front of him, who looked rather tired and angry, even more so than usual.

"Logan," Bob nodded. Logan nodded in return but did not say anything.

"Why are you here?" he asked.

"I want answers." That confused Logan.

"Answers for what?" Bob shook his head slightly.

"Why do you hate my daughter?"

"She's the one who hates me," Logan muttered.

"Well, why don't you tell me what happened? From what I've heard, you started it."

"I didn't start anything."

"Why couldn't you have just let them walk through?"

"Why didn't they walk around?" Bob sighed.

"Oh, my God. I don't get you. Why did you keep on annoying her? Why didn't you just leave her alone?"

"She started it; she annoys me!"

"She was nine," said Bob, in shock. "She can be a handful, I know, but you were, what, fifteen? Why didn't you just walk away?"

"She's not the type to just let you walk away!" Logan seethed.

"Okay, fair enough; I get that," Bob saw his point. "But you're older; what could you get out of bullying a little kid?"

"You didn't seem to care when you let me work in your restaurant," Logan sneered, and Bob looked extremely guilty.

"Okay, that was bad. But, I was a little preoccupied, and I didn't know what was going on. But still, you shouldn't have treated her the way you did."

"What do you want from me?"

"I want an apology. I want you to feel some shred of remorse for what you put my daughter through."

"I think me being stuck in here is apology enough, don't you?"

"You haven't actually said you're sorry."

"I did, back on that first night."

"We both know you didn't mean it. Look, imagine that it wasn't Louise. Imagine it was some other kid stuck in that well, wouldn't you feel bad?"

"I guess," Logan shifted uncomfortably. Bob just stared at him, before trying a different tactic.

"She's still in therapy, you know," he said quietly, trying to appeal to the part of Logan that had a conscience. "It's been a year, and she still has nightmares, all the time. She's got depression, and anxiety, she's covered in permanent scars. She's physically and mentally scarred for life; she's still suffering." He hoped that the teen would begin to understand. He just wanted a sincere apology.

"Well, so am I; I have to suffer for the next five years." Bob sighed again.

"One year for each day she was trapped; seems fair to me," he shrugged. Each day had probably felt like a year to Louise, anyway; it certainly did for him. Logan's eyes blazed with fury. Bob again changed tactic, and pulled some photos from his pocket. Spreading them out, he pointed to the first one, a picture of Louise after she had been brought up. "See how her face is grey? That's not the light; her body had to shut down blood vessels to her face, arms, and legs to keep her heart pumping. Just to keep her alive, to keep her heart beating." He pointed to another photo. "See her arms and legs, see they're black? That's not mud and dirt; that's lack of blood. They thought they'd have to amputate her arms and legs." He looked a deep breath and looked intensely at Logan, noticing how, for the first time, the boy appeared to be absorbing what he was hearing. "When she was in the emergency room, they thought she was going to die on the table. Her pulse was so weak." He paused, blinking away tears. "I freak out when she runs around or stuff like that; I'm terrified she's going to have a heart attack. I get up four to five times a night to make sure she's still breathing. The stress is wearing me out." Logan was staring at him.

"I didn't know it was that close," he said slowly. Bob resisted the urge to chastise him for not listening in court; they were making progress.

"Look, I know it was an accident, but she came very close to dying. I just want a proper apology; for you to understand how serious it was, that's all." They both stared at each other, Bob's eyes pleading, Logan's jaw set.

"... I'm sorry," said Logan, after the longest time. "I'm sorry for what I did." Bob was speechless. He never would have thought Logan would do it. Bob guessed he was finally maturing.

"Thank you," he nodded, rose from his chair, and left the room.

---

Bob decided to not keep quiet about his visit to Logan; after all, he did promise Louise to not lie to her anymore. He came out and told them that night at the dinner table.

"I can't believe he actually apologised," Linda had said, looking as shocked as Bob had felt.

"He was lying," Louise looked bored, pushing her food around on her place.

"He seemed sincere," said Bob. "I think he was actually sorry."

"Nah; that would never happen," Louise insisted.

"Well, at least he apologised; that's something," Bob shrugged.

"He's up to something," said Louise. "Probably trying to get let out early, gain your trust, let your guard down, and then BOOM!"

"They're not going to let him out early," Linda assured her. "Even if they did, he's not allowed to come near you."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I thought you'd wanna know."

"Well, I know that he's planning on something. Why else would he apologise?"

"I really believe that he feels bad now," said Bob.

"Oh, you sweet summer child," Louise patted her father's arm. "You really don't know anything, do you?"

"Well, either way, he said sorry, he's in jail. I think we should just move on.. from that," said Bob.

"That's the first smart thing I've ever heard you say."

"Thanks, Louise," Bob resumed eating.

A few days later, the Belcher kids were sat in the cafeteria, eating lunch.

"Right, sibs, I'll see you later; I've got somewhere to be," Louise pushed her tray aside and stood. Gene and Tina looked at one another.

"Where are you going?" asked Tina, watching as Louise pulled her perma-pass from her backpack. Just in case.

"That's for me to know."

"Do you need us to come with you?" Gene asked, as they walked through the hallway.

"No; it's not your business."

"What is it?" Tina wondered if her little sister was cooking up some nefarious scheme.

"Something important that needs to be done, and that's all you need to know." Louise turned to find her older siblings staring at her apprehensively. "It's nothing bad," she assured them, rolling her eyes. "Don't you trust me?" Tina and Gene exchanged glances, Tina groaning.

"It's not that we don't trust you," she began slowly. "But you don't usually keep things from us." They knew better than to question Louise, but Tina was right; she had always involved them in her plans.

"It's just something I need to do. I'll be back here by home time. I promise," she added, before turning and heading out of the school.

"She really means it," Gene said, and Tina agreed. Louise did not break promises if she could help it (or if it benefited her to do so.)

"Wonder what she's going to do?" Tina mused, looking through the closed doors. Gene shrugged.

"Who knows?" They would probably never understand what went on in their little sister's head. Still, they supposed she had good reason for doing whatever it was she was about to do.

Louise walked down the street, her mind focused on nothing except where she was going. If anyone gave her a second glance, she didn't notice. She walked directly in the middle of the path, moving for no one, staring determinedly ahead.

Sure, she could have taken the bus, but she was supposed to be in school. Not that she cared about skipping, but she didn't want to arouse suspicion, and she certainly didn't want anyone to find out where she was heading.

She had soon enough reached her destination, and she did not hesitate to enter Wharf Park, knowing where she needed to go. She felt glad that there were not many people there.

Eventually, she came upon a little steel lid, welded tightly into the ground.

Louise sat down in front of the well, and crossed her legs, and resting her chin on her fists. She was going to pay when she would try to stand later, but there were no chairs. If she got up slowly, it wouldn't hurt so much.

She didn't know how long she sat there, staring at it. It still didn't seem all that real. She frowned slightly as she observed it. It looked so small; how did she manage to get in there?

Louise placed her hands on either side of the well, effectively cupping it. Lifting her hands, she placed them at her waist. To her dismay, there was room to spare, and she again rested her head on her hands.

It was first time she'd ever seen the well in real life, she realised. Of course, she hadn't noticed it on that day, and when she'd gotten revenge on Logan, they'd been on the other side of the park. How come it looked different in the pictures?

She reached out once again, and placed her hand on the cool steel, wondering how sturdy it was. She leaned right over the well, almost holding her breath, waiting for the lid to crumble and give way, but it didn't. If she decided to jump on it (not that she would), would it give way? But then she remembered, it had been filled up to the very top with cement, so there was little chance of her falling in again. Still, she kept one hand firmly on the ground beside her, just in case.

This was that final piece of proof that it had really happened, along with the concrete circle a few feet away.

'I was in there,' Louise thought, eyeing the well. 'I was stuck in there.' She looked around at the park, trying to imagine it filled with hundreds of people, machines, lights, and equipment. It still felt good when she thought about how the whole of Seymour's Bay worked to save her. No, all of New Jersey. Wait, everyone in America worked to save her. Her; Louise Belcher. She supposed they couldn't leave their future ruler in a well. She wouldn't be able to reign supreme from in there. Just as soon as she was back to feeling 100 % herself, she could resume putting those plans in motion.

Louise hoped that moment would come soon; she'd been feeling better over the past few months, and she couldn't wait to feel like Louise again. She'd noted that her mood had lifted when they went to Japan, so obviously the only option was to go back to Japan. It really was best for everyone.

Nodding to herself, Louise resumed staring at the well.

True to her word, Louise was back at school in time for the final bell, and met up with Gene and Tina at Gene's locker.

"Did you do whatever you needed to do?" asked Tina, as they left school and headed for home.

"Yep," was all Louise said. They remained silent on the subject, and continued their journey. Louise did not give even a minute hint as to what she had been up to, until that night when they were sent to bed.

She stretched, waiting for her brother and sister to leave the room before she stood. "Mom, Dad," she stood directly in front of them, as they rearranged themselves on the sofa.

"What, sweetie?"

"I fell down a well," she said matter-of-factly. Her parents looked at one another.

"That's right," said Bob.

"Well, I was pushed, but let's not get picky."

"Yes, we know," Linda's eyes were brimming.

"You shouldn't deny these things, you know," Louise told them, before heading off to her room.

Bob and Linda waited until she was gone, before they broke into the biggest grins and hugged tightly.

"She did it!" Bob whispered triumphantly. It was the breakthrough they'd been waiting for for months; she'd finally accepted what had happened to her.

"Oh, I'm so proud of my baby!" Linda wiped her wet face.

"Me, too." Bob leaned back, smiling. Now, Louise just needed to come to terms with her body, but they were in no rush for that. She'd made a huge hurdle, and they couldn't ask for more.

Louise stood in her bedroom, surveying it. She looked at all of her new toys, and other gifts she had received. The three-foot plush shark from Teddy resided at the end of her bed, its open-mouthed face pointing at the door, ready to eat any intruders. The huge card Patrick and Simon had given her was resting behind her chest of drawers. The rest of her toys were arranged on her bookshelf. They made her already small room look cramped, but she didn't really mind.

She'd kept her ankle cast, tightly sealed in two plastic bags, mainly because of all the signatures on it. One of these days, she was going to spring it on Regular sized Rudy. She would make a bet; what was worse: seven weeks of unwashed Rudy arm, or eight weeks of unwashed Louise foot? She would win. Of course she would. Her cast was on for longer, plus she'd kept hers around for much longer than Rudy did. There was no way she could lose. She was going to bet, fifty, maybe one hundred dollars.

On the little step at the bottom of her nightstand was a photo album; it had been one of her Christmas presents from Linda. It was filled with pictures from the Japan trip. Louise sometimes liked to look through it before she went to sleep.

Pulling on her pyjamas, she switched off the light, and climbed into bed. A thought striking her, she reached under her pillow, pulling out her writing notepad. Rifling through the pages, she saw that her writing appeared to be more coherent, as if her thoughts were more organised. Placing the book back, she got her dream notepad, and quickly flipped to the last couple of pages. The nightmares were slowly becoming less frequent, now perhaps once a week, instead of three or four. They were still a bit of a jumble; she supposed it was because dreams rarely made sense anyway, but she deeply hoped, that in time, they would stop.

Settling down into her bed, she grabbed Kuchi Kopi. She felt different now that she had admitted what had happened to her aloud; properly acknowledged it. She didn't feel any better, like she hoped, but she just felt different.

"I did it, Kuchi," she told him.

~ X ~

Done!

I had no idea it was going to be this long. Whoops!

We've got one more chapter to go.

Originally, I wasn't going to have Logan or Cynthia in this chapter; I thought they'd served their purpose. But, I got to thinking, and I thought that seeing Logan in prison would be a nice touch.

I thought I should make him grow a little bit for apologising for what he did.

What did you think? I'd love to know!